


Recruitment Reversal

by BeneficialAddiction



Series: Boxers, Briefs, and Other Shorts [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Hurt Clint Barton, Phil shoots Hawkeye!, Recruitment, Role Reversal, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneficialAddiction/pseuds/BeneficialAddiction
Summary: Natasha is recruited to SHIELD first. Then comes Clint.





	Recruitment Reversal

Natasha Romanov came in to SHIELD as Natalia Alianova Romanova, more widely known as the Black Widow, one of the most feared and well-known espionage entities in the world. She was also the most sought-after outside agent in the history of the organization. They never caught her, never even came close, until the day she decided she was done running and was going to take her fate and her future back into her own hands. 

She was assigned Senior Agent Phillip J Coulson as her handler, and found for the first time in her life that she could trust a company man; as a superior and a friend. For the first two years hardly anyone else speaks to her, whispering about her behind her back and getting the fuck out of her way when they can't meet her eyes. They respect her skills and fear her wrath, and that's more than enough for her. Before she knows it six years have gone by and she's made what she can tentatively call colleagues, but she's still the Widow, and she can still put the fear of god into any man who crosses her. 

They see her as heartless, as an ice-cold bitch, a knife-sharp man eater and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

Then Coulson goes after Hawkeye and everything changes. 

Natasha met Clint Barton when she was still a teenager, a bitter, hardened adult in a child-assassin's body. By then the archer was already as cynical as she was, two-thirds deaf, scrawny and underfed, scarred as hell both physically and mentally with an aversion to older men as bad as any she'd ever seen. He'd offered her some unneeded help when their lives and their jobs had clashed one afternoon in Budapest, and the rest as they say was history. 

Theirs was a twisted and complicated one. They've been partners and lovers, confidants and friends, have fought and screamed and hurt each other badly, but they'd always come back together in the end. It was that which proved to Natasha that love could exist, that she came back to Clint Barton over and over again even as he grew into the walking disaster he was today – a muscly, vigilante archer, a dorky goofball who could hit a moving target at a thousand yards easy as walking, then turn around and trip over his own feet a minute later. He's the closest thing the Black Widow has to a heart, and there is nothing she won't do to keep him safe. 

So she's helped him stay clear of the alphabet soup agencies. He's still a merc, still wanted, but he's the best at what he does, the gold-standard in sniper, and so it's no surprise when he lands on SHIELD's radar. She drops him multiple communications, begs him to come in because the thought of having him by her side again sends a rush of aggressive, eager anticipation through her body that's nearly sexual in its intensity, but thus far he's refused all offers. 

Now she warns him instead. 

She tells him they're sending Phil, tries to explain to the archer that _this man,_ this man is different. 

Barton naturally doesn't listen. 

So when Phil hauls him into headquarters, cuffed and bloody and sodden dripping rainwater all over the tile, she's quite possibly the only person present who isn't shocked. 

And there are a lot of people present. 

He is the famous Hawkeye after all. 

Of course, the agents gathered round in gossiping, whispering groups are staring at Coulson just as hard as the fabled sharpshooter. He's soaked to the bone, his suit shirt wrinkled, jacket torn, his tie missing all together. There's blood spatter on his slacks, a bruise across his knuckles, and his hair is sticking up at an odd angle on one side – all in all he looks a veritable disaster, as rumpled as Coulson has probably ever looked in his life. 

Not even Natasha has ever seen him like this, and she's as close to an inner sanctum as Coulson has. 

"I told you this would happen," she says smugly, sauntering forward into the empty no-man's-land that has formed as agents part, scattering to the sides of the room as Coulson drags Hawkeye to a halt beside the front desk, digging deep into his inner jacket pocket for his badge. 

Phil lifts his head, scowls at her and opens his mouth, no doubt to deliver a snarling rebuff, but it wasn't him she'd been speaking to. 

"Oh fuck _off_ Nat, I have had the _worst day,"_ Clint groans, leaning back on his heels and tipping his head up toward the ceiling. 

The crowd startles, hell, _Coulson_ startles – the only SHIELD agent who'd ever dared to shorten her name had ended up needing testicle retrieval surgery. By now it's pretty obvious to everyone present that she knows this man, so she feels no qualms stepping in close to his side and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

"You've had worse days," she says with a smirk. 

"Ok, yeah, fine," he scoffs with a shrug, "I've had worse days. Your damn suit shot me!" 

"I told you he was good," she grins wolfishly, flicking Coulson a grin, only a little surprised to find that the man is still frozen, stunned by this turn of events. 

"Pfft," Clint huffs, rolling his eyes before turning away in a show of boredom that lets him take in the full lay of the land. "He's not _that_ good. He missed three times." 

"Hey!" Coulson barks, finally finding his tongue. "I caught you didn't I?" 

"Did you?" 

It's no more than a mumble, a sulky pout, but it puts Natasha on high alert. 

"What's wrong Little Bird?" she asks, her concern evident even beneath the thick, natural accent frosting her Russian words. Clint's cheek is bristly under her palm, his eyes sunken and bruised, but he's warm and real and solid before her, and he turns into her touch like he's missed her as much as she's missed him. 

"I'm tired Tasha," he sighs, hunching forward and tucking himself in beneath her chin in the familiar way he does, the way that shouldn't actually work, given their differences in height. She can feel the way everyone around them stiffens up, can feel their shock and awe but she doesn't care. The man in her arms is more important than her reputation, always has been, always will be. 

"I'm tired of this," he mumbles, rolling his forehead against her shoulder, cuddling into her despite the fact that his hands are still cuffed behind his back. "I'm tired of this life. I'm tired of running, I... I'm tired of being alone. I miss you Tasha." 

"You never miss," she hums, petting his hair. 

He doesn't answer her, and they don't get nearly enough time before Coulson is tugging on Clint's elbow, pulling him gently out of her embrace. 

To be fair he has the good grace to look reluctant about it. 

"Let's go," he says quietly, but all the anger seems to have gone out of him, all the irritation. 

Now he just looks tired. 

"Coulson..." she protests, but Clint shakes his head, gives her that crooked half-smile she adores. 

"Ah, leave it Tasha," he sighs, "You can say I told you so tomorrow." 

"If you're still alive tomorrow," she says playfully. 

Clint stops cold, turns on her with a stone-cold glare. 

"I find your lack of faith disturbing." 

"Ugh, Star Wars Barton?" she sniffs with mock disgust. "Really? Just for that I'm kicking your ass to the mats, first chance I get." 

Tossing her a grin that lights up his whole face, Clint winks saucily and steps right past Coulson, leading the way into a building he shouldn't know. 

"Looking forward to it Matroyshka." 

She watches him go. 

They all watch him go. 

Watch the infamous Hawkeye lead the way into the depths of SHIELD headquarters, cuffed and escorted by the renowned Agent Coulson. 

None of them see the moment of pure, unadulterated respect in the senior agent's eyes, the brief flash of reluctantly impressed lust, the moment of sheer geek love. 

Nobody but the Black Widow, and the World's Greatest Marksman, the Amazing Hawkeye.

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> _Matroyshka - Russian nesting doll._  
> 


End file.
